"You will not? You will marry the creature of your uncle, whom you regard with aversion?"
"You know, Friedemann, I do not take this step from interest, but a sense of duty."
"Duty! Toward whom?"
"Yourself! I could never be happy, nor make you happy, as your wife. You are a great artist; but you can never rise to my sphere. And should I sacrifice all for you, would not my incensed uncle pursue us with his vengeance? If we found shelter in solitude, how long would you or I bear this concealment?"
Friedemann grew pale, and looked down.
"We could not be happy," resumed the countess. "All I can do is to keep my heart for you. You can live for your art and me."
"And love you in secret?" asked the young man bitterly.
"I would bear condemnation for your sake."
"You shall not! The woman for whose sake I am miserable, for whom I have deceived father, brother, friends, shall never know the world's scorn. Farewell, Natalie! We never meet again. Be unlike your future husband—be noble and true. Crushed as I am, you shall yet esteem me, knowing that all virtuous resolution has not left my heart!"
"O Friedemann! how I honor and admire you," exclaimed the weeping girl, as she flung her arms around his neck.